Sealed Hearts
by SammieeJay
Summary: Michael/Christine/Connor/Imogen. - Will their relationships blossom into something beautiful, or burn into one of Connors fires.
1. Chapter 1

**Sealed Hearts.**

Chapter One.

The golden grainy sand beneath their feet was sparkling like millions of tiny jewels under the shimmering sun. Christine's smile was wide and genuine as Michael slipped an arm round her waist, walking up the sand. Christine opened her bag carefully, but as she lost grip on one of the straps, she found her lesson plans drifting off, over to the sea.  
"Erm, Michael..." She said, worry in her voice. "That's the How good's your memory?" He gently asked, a laugh gently being released from his lips as she shook her head a tiny "Rubbish..." escaping her lips as she panicked. Michael turned towards the sea, beginning to run to it. The cool seawater took in his presence as he searched for her lesson plans; the white foam from the sea surrounded him as the waves from the majestic deep blue sea carried on crashing against the shore.

The fish were concealed with the currents of water varied with a number of haphazard objects including; bottles and seaweed.

Christine's sweet laughter could be heard as she saw Michael rummaging and investigating the close area of the sea on his quest to find her lesson plans.

She smiled, just a little smile at first, but as it grew it pressed her rosy cheeks up and slowly uncovered her teeth, like perfect pearls, dropped in a rose. Finally the smile reached her eyes, lighting them, making them twinkle, and causing them to crinkle at the corners with happiness, amusement even possibly... _no. Not yet..._

_Diverting her from her train of thought, Michael began yelling from the water._

_"I've got them!" He yelled, to which she began laughing once again, bending over to watch him._

_"Just another twelve to go!" She called back in her rhotic Scottish accent, before commencing in a fit of giggles, her clear eyes twinkling with delight as he shot her a wink. _

_"Hey, I am the super head!" He chuckled before stumbling, tripping over his stick launching face first in the freezing cold water, and the foam from the water covering over where he had been. The only sound was the laughter from Christine, until she realised Michael hadn't surfaced yet. Kicking off her shoes in a panic, she ran straight into the ice cold water, her eyes scouring the water for any glimpse of where Michael could be. She felt someone yank on her leg and before she knew it she was under the water, squeals filling the area as she tried to stand up, pulling Michael up with her. She noticed Michael's hands around her waist but dismissed any romantic meaning._

_"Michael!" she gasped. "I thought you were drowning!" she sounded mad, but the smile was still very much there; and for the first time in a very long time, it reached her eyes._

_"I was lonely in here!" He laughed. "Anyway...I think these lesson plans are long gone..." he laughed, holding up a sodden lesson plan, all the ink run, smeared across the page; once formed words a mess of ink and water on a page._

_"I was worried, you know!" She laughed, looking down at her soaking wet clothes before looking back up at him._

He took a bit of her hair that had fallen down over her face and put it behind her ear gently, smiling softly as he did to.

"Why don't we get home? You're gonna catch a cold." He said compassionately.

_She smiled softly as she looked up at him and nodded, "Yeah, thanks. You should too." She said softly. "You've been in there longer."_

_With a slight nod, Michael lifted Christine up gently, carrying her out of the water before placing her down and smiling. _

_"I'll walk you home." He smiled, shaking his head, water droplets springing from his hair._

_Christine watched as she bent down, slowly picking up her bag, taking in every detail of his body, how his shirt clung to his muscular body through his white linen shirt._

_As they finally reached Christine's house, their smiles had not dropped, neither from their lips nor their eyes._

_They were still laughing and joking, being the happy selves neither of them had been recently._

_Nevertheless, Christine knew the minute she walked through that door, she would be drawn back into the world of misery, lies and temptation._

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He said softly. It was more of a statement then a question. "Will Connor be in? Or is he still ill?" he asked, genuinely concerned for her sons health. _If only he knew the truth..._

"He will be, yes. I'll make sure he is." She smiled gently, walking up the path ro her house, rummaging through the contents of her bag for the front door keys.

"Bye then," Michael smiled before reaching up and brushing his lips against her cheek, his light stubble grazing over her silky soft unblemished skin.

As he pulled back, his eyes were closed, half expecting a slap – but was surprisingly contented when a bright smile met his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Michael." She smiled softly before making her way inside, shutting the door behind her.

She instantly fell against the door, her eyes closing and a large smile perched upon her lips.

She walked into the lounge where she was greeted Connor, a miserable look perched upon his face, his eyes blood shot from lack of sleep and the never ending well of tears of guilt and fear pouring.

"Connor, you look dreadful son..." She sighed, walking over to him, wrapping him up in a maternal hug.

"I can't do it mum, I can't go back, I can't face her..." He spoke shakily as the tears began to fall once again. Christine pulled back from the hug, resting her hands on his shoulders and keeping him at arm's length.

"You have to, Connor. You need to face what you've done. You need to walk in there, and act normal otherwise people are going to star questioning our story, start wondering whether I'm covering for you..." She sighed. "You can do it, son. And I'll be there with you; every step of the way." She said softly, her eyes glimmering with truth as she stroked her son's hair, before wiping away his tears.

Connor slowly nodded before making his way upstairs. Christine watched him before making his way to the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee, relaxing at the scent of the strong coffee.

She heard her phone beep twice and realised she had a text. When she looked at her screen, she couldn't help the smile that graced her face.

_'Thinking of you. Remember, get out of those wet clothes! See you tomorrow, Michael.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Sealed Hearts.**

ChapterTwo.

As Christine's eyes began to flicker open, she stretched her arms out above her head, letting out a yawn. Her room was illuminated with a bright light, shining down from the lampshade above her bed. With a groan, she threw the covers back, swinging her legs over, placing them on her white plush rug.

Plodding over to the window, she grasped each curtain and threw them open, looking out on the scenery of Greenok. Her eyes glistened as the morning sun shone brightly from the endless sky, the glorious rays reaching down and reflecting through the window, accentuating her natural beauty. Slowly, she ran her long elegant fingers through her blonde locks, watching over the sky as the clouds seemed to float around the sky in to particular pattern, however, still managing to look so beautiful as the formed shapes that had many meanings to different people.

The soft plod of footsteps decending down the staircase could be faintly heard from the kitchen where Christine sat eating her toast. A lovely brown bread, cut off a lovely freshly baked loaf with a lightly flowered crust, coated thick with butter melted all the way through with light pools on top.

"Connor, love? Are you ready?" She said softly, finishing her mouthful. Connor walked in slowly, he looked ill at ease. His shoulders weren't slouched, his eyes were still blood shot and his frame was upright, however, he was in his uniform.

His face was pale. His complection resembled a creamy porcelain dreamn, his lips a winter smile, his eyes hollow, no emotion.

"You ready to go?" She spoke softly, standing up as she walked over to him, reaching a hand out to rest it on his shoulder, which was instantly removed when Connor flinched, jumping back.

"Connor..." Christine gasped, moving back away from him. "I...let's just go..." She spoke, near to speechless, grabbing her bag as she walked to the front door.

-

"Most of you will recognise our new recruit here, though, so of you will not. So, Nikki, would you mind?" Michael smiled, giving her a nod.

"Hi everyone. I'm Nikki Boston, and I'm in charge of the Pupil Refferal Unit." She smiled, taking a strand of her medium lenth dark chocolate hair and tucking it behind her pierced ear.

Tom's lips twitched up into a sweet smile as he watched her, which when she noticed, a crimson blush washed over the area of her cheeks, even more so as he walked closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder, smiling.  
"Welcome back, Boston." He grinned his cheeky grin as he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, arising an even bigger smile to form on her full plump lips.

-

"Connor, you can't blank me forever!" Imogen shouted from the bottom of the staircase, holding her cotton scarf firmly against her scar. turning slightly, Connor's eyes quickly glanced at her. He found he couldn't look at her for anymore than a few seconds without wanting to drop on his knees and tell her, be punished; even though he knew full well that no matter what punishment he underwent, it would be nowhere near as much as what Imogen had to deal with.  
"Connor!" Her strong scottish aceent darted through him once again. He couldn't stop himself turning tound to face her, making sure his eyes were not looking into hers.  
"What is it?" She said softly, emotion wrattling in her throat. "Is it me? Is it my scar?" She spoke, her shaking hand still clutching tightly to her linen scarf, her big tearfilled eyes scanning him as he looked down, unable to look at her.  
"No." Was all he could manage to scrape together, the task of forming understandable sentences apparently becoming too much, as he caught a glimpse of her scar. The scar that he had caused. He shook his head, his walk transforming into a sprint as he ran out of the school, away from her and in his mind; away from the truth.

Stumbling into her classroom, her arms piled high with folders and books. "Books out, page 35." She spoke softly as she laid her possetions on her desk. Her eyes instinctively glanced towards he draw containing her stress relief method. Vodka. The temptation she had overcome for nearing a month. Her palms began to clam up, her fingers twitching, averting her eyes away from the drawer.  
"Harley." Her tone wasn't unfriendly, in fact, it was bordering on the edge of friendly and calm. Proud even, proud that once again she had resisted the temptation of the bottle. But when the temptation catches up with you, you always fall harder.

"Mrs Mulgrew. Just the person I wanted to see." Sian smiled, catching up with Christine in the corridor, who stopped and turned round, smiling. "You okay, Sian?" She asked, shrugging a shoulder to keep her bag stable on it.  
"Yeah, its just grades in science. I know a lot has happened but he has gone from being an A star canditade to a D or below in less than a term...I don't really know where to go with this." She explained. "He's a bright boy, which his earlier courseworks and exam results show, but he isn't concentrating. Which, I can sympathise, is understandable."  
Christine nodded and smiled. "Thanks, I'll see if I can have a word." She spoke, trying to sound more confidnt than she felt.  
As Sians eyes scanned their surroundings, her eyes widened, stopping on the front desk. She didn't understand, it was as if her brain short-circuited and needed to be rebooted. Why was he here?  
"Who is it?" Christine whispered, eyeing the man at the entrance desk as Sians mouth opened and closed, failing to formulate words. He was there. It had been so long.  
"That's my ex husband..." She whispered, walking over to him, her heart beating rapidly under her skin.  
"Jez?" She spoke, shyly, to the man at the desk, his smile firmly placed on his face.

-

Tapping his pen on his desk, the sound of plastic and metal colliding, resounded throughout the room as Michael attempted to evaluate the schools progress on paper. The little attention he had accumulated soon had vanished as he heard his phone beep from his top drawer.

Unknown number.

'You haven't got rid of me. I'm still here. And you will see who, soon enough.'

Michaels face dropped,his blood running heated through his vains, a mixture of anxiety and worry, joining with fear. Who?


End file.
